


Let’s Blame the Moon

by Crymore



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Bad anna, Domestic, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Vampires, Werewolves, len just wants to sleep. Seriously, nentions of abusive relationships but not indepthly explored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 01:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crymore/pseuds/Crymore
Summary: Dr. Leonard Snart abhorred the town where his practice, but it’s not like he plans on leaving any time soon. One night, a patient  come in with a strange bite mark on his leg. Len’s not so worried.Enter Raymond Palmer, the town’s resident weirdo.And Len’s crush (not that anybody needs to know that).





	Let’s Blame the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by an anonymous commenter on my Raylin Palmer series.

Let it be known Leonard Snart hates Ivy Town. 

Its was too boring. It’s was too much like a postcard. Too happy, too bright, too cheerful, and too damn weird. Everybody hunts and fishes and goes to church on Sunday. The entire area was wooded with a gorgeous lake that is riddled with boats all year; hell, they even have a swamp with an urban legend. (Old Re-Ivy-ble was apparently like Swamp-Thing, but more mischievous and more likely to cause illness on those who stray too far from the lake into the swamp than attack anyone) (Town myths are freaking weird).

How Lisa convinced him to move here was beyond him. Something about being stressed and the benefits of being a small town doctor and the sibling’s grandfather was the previous town doctor decades earlier and Leonard needed to take it easy after the accident; Lisa flashed her big hazel eyes, shiny and golden with a looked of desperation and Len crumbled. 

Len was so weak.

But it was too late to leave at this point. Taking back his grandfather’s practice was laughably easy; the real estate agent practically giddy to have Len sign the papers and pass him his “rightful place”. 

Len began to remember why he didn’t visit his grandfather much as a child. The townspeople were freaky. Like it’s some sort of sacrilege to ever leave the town. The damn second the townies heard that a Snart has officially decided to take up the old practice, nearly everyone and their mother came by with a congratulatory cake and a welcome casserole. 

The practice was a small building on the outer part of town, where the rest of the business were, like the dentist, pharmacy, and hardware store. And because Snart’s don’t know how to take it easy, Len had a 24-hour clinic and a pager that would wake him up the second the front door opened, because he didn’t believe he needed help from another doctor or nurses. 

All weirdness aside, Ivy Town isn’t too bad, he supposed. People had normal, boring diseases. Hardly anyone had any real damaging injuries. The most serious injury Len had to deal with was a fish hook stuck in the arm of a teenager who went midnight fishing on the local lake. 

Well, until last night.

One the local hunters came in with a peculiar bite one bright autumn night. The man said it was a wolf, but wolves weren’t in season, and no wolf had a bite radius this large. The man was jumpy, scratching his neck, eyes darting around and skin clammy. Len gave him a heavy sedative. The wound was disinfected and bandaged expertly, and the Leonard left the man alone for a bit as he filled out the proper paperwork and and a prescription for pain killers. The hunter was dizzy with morphine and laying comfortably on the examination table.

Leonard figures that there wouldn’t be anymore late night visitors that evening as he stared at the full moon hanging in the starry sky. And since Ivy Town hated Leonard as much as he hated it, his pager beeped, signaling that there was, in fact, a new visitor. 

The good doctor groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. Maybe it was another dumb teenager.

By the time Len made it to the front waiting area, he had already seen the mop of dark hair. Len groaned. It was Raymond Palmer.

Ray was known for being endearingly clumsy and brilliant and quirky. 

Brilliant because he seemed to know the answer to any question anyone could ask. Intelligent because he went to college at fifteen and came back a doctor. Okay, a doctor of mythic cultural literature (whatever that was), but he was a doctor nonetheless. Smart because he had ever searching eyes, flickering from object to object, constantly looking and searching for new information, writing it down in his leather bound journal that’s habitually tucked beneath his arm.

Quirky like sitting on the lake with weird machines. Weird like going ‘camping’ for a few weeks with no camping gear but books and chalk. Strange like have some blond with a British accent roll through town every so often and he and Ray talk in a unknown language in the local diner. 

And clumsy because Len had seen with his own eyes Raymond trip over a painted line. 

Twice. 

Ray comes in every so often for the odd burn (for some reason shaped like a… cross? More often then not) or a a deep cut from an accident with one of his “inventions”. Nothing major or noteworthy other than the frequencies of his visits. 

He was easily Len favorite patient, but the good doctor tried to squash those feelings. As soon as Len became attached to someone, he would soon afterwards discover some terrible secret that shatter his view on the person. 

Denise being a cat burglar. Edward cheating on him. Aaron and… well, Aaron was a whole ‘nother can of worms Len didn’t want to think about. Ever. 

So whatever Raymond was hiding, Len didn’t want to ruin golden boy image he had built up. Ray would just be a daydream. A passing fancy. 

A passing fancy standing in his waiting room, beaming at him like the full moon outside. 

“Hey! Dr. Snart, how are you?”

Len chuckled, moving into the room. “Raymond, I think with the constant visits we’ve surpassed familiarities. Call me Len.”

A passing fancy Leonard was for some reason not letting pass. 

Raymond ducked his head and flushed. Leonard smirked.

“Well, uh, I have a weird question.” The taller man mumbled, scratching his neck awkwardly. 

Len breathed a laugh and shrugged, signaling for Ray to continue. 

“Um, a friend of mine came here I think? I was meant to meet up with him at his campsite, and it was there, but, uh, he wasn’t, but there was blood-“

“A hunter?”

“Yeah, Walter Grimsby? Is he here?”

Walter Grimsby was, in fact, the man sleeping in the back room. 

“Yeah, what about him?” Walter was a younger man, attractive if you like that whole, “lone-wolf-hunter-lumberjack thing”. Maybe Raymond likes that. Len frowned to himself at that thought. 

“I just want to know what happened. Am I allowed to know, or is there that whole doctor patient thingy?”

The man knew Pi to a thousand places and forgets the word confidentiality. Well, what was the harm. Raymond probably was going to be the one to take Walter home, anyway.

Len pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, forcing inappropriate thoughts of Raymond and… various others out of his mind. 

“Wolf bite. He says, at least. Wolves aren’t in season; it’s too late in the fall.” 

Raymond paled. “Was it a deep wound?”

Len nodded and shrugged. “Non fatal, but still pretty deep. If he’s lucky it won’t scar.”

Raymond didn’t seem to listen after the first sentence. Instead he fled to the window and peered out from it, long neck cramming upward to the sky. 

“It’s a full moon tonight.” He whispered with a sort of reverence. 

“And?” It was nearing midnight, Len had a long day; he didn’t have time for attractive eccentrics. 

“We should go out.” Ray said suddenly, still staring out the window. “Like, now.”

The doctor stared open mouth in confusion at Raymond. Half of Len was thrilled at the idea. A perfectly adorkable geek for him to ruin? Practically Christmas. The logical side was listing all the reasons not to go. There was a lot. 

But all Len did was splutter. “What?!”

Ray looked anxiously at the door behind Leonard. 

“Listen, I know this is kinda sudden and I’m about to sound totally crazy-“

Dear god, Raymond Palmer is about to confess his love for Len. 

“But you are in mortal danger and we need to leave.”

That sound? That an old record makes when its needle suddenly stopped? Yeah, all that’s going through Len’s head at the moment. 

“What?! Raymond what in God’s name is going-“

And that was when the door from the back room bursted open, and (what Len could only call) a large dog came forth, snarling and frothing, standing on its hind legs. 

Len just stared, looking and seeing but not understanding. This… dog nearly reached the ceiling in height, arms(?) bulging; wearing toe dark green flannel and the reminisce of denim still around its waist.

While Len was staring in at the beast stupidly, Raymond grabbed him by the back of his white coat and dragged him out the door. 

Raymond (dorky, geeky, Boy Scout Raymond) pulled a gun from fucking nowhere and shot the damn thing, all while pulling Len from the building. 

Len wasn’t really registering anything after that. He was barely aware that he was in a car (Ray’s stupid Ford Cortina, he later realized) and was then suddenly inside a house, on a couch. Huh, he must have past out. Ray lives a good thirty minutes from Len’s practice. 

“What in the- the fresh hell was that!” Len demanded, shooting up from the red sofa he was previously on. 

Ray looked embarrassed and scratched his neck.

While Raymond searched for an answer, Len took in his surroundings. Ray’s living room was small, and would have been cozy if Len wasn’t so agitated right now. The walls were a deep blue, carpet whit, sofa red; very eclectic and perfectly Raymond. 

“Did you get hurt?”

“You have a gun?!”

“Did he bite you or anything? Scratch or something?”

“What? No- don’t dodge the question-“

“Are you sure-“

“Raymond!” Len seethed. “What. Was. That. Thing!” 

Ray sighed and looked dejected. “A werewolf. That,” he pointed at the door, “was a fully fledged lycan during its first transformation.”

Len just stared on. 

“Walter and I, he was supposed to help me track the alpha tonight, but he left too early.” A scowled marred the taller man’s face and he lightly kicked the lounge chair by him. “It’s my fault.” He mumbled. “He wasn’t prepared enough, and I knew he was too over eager. I should have known that he-“

“Werewolf?”

“What?”

Len glowered. “You said werewolf. You said Grimsby turned into a werewolf.” Raymond was now, officially, crazy! Dear god what if Raymond was crazy? What if he was completely delusional? What he drugged Len somehow, that’s why the doctor saw what he saw.

The dark haired man shrugged. “Yeah.” 

“Werewolves aren’t real, Raymond.” Len said slowly, trying to show his companion now ludicrous the notion of even considering the supernatural was real.

Ray leveled Len with a look that said “seriously?”

“Len, you saw it too. Too big for a wolf, not the right face for a bear, and wearing the tattered remains of what Walter was wearing.”

“A prank then! Some of the teenagers-“

“Not them.” Ray chuckled, a somewhat pained sound. “They still think lycanthropes are myths.”

Len let the words settle in the air. 

Mythical?

Ray let out a frustrated sigh before grabbing a book, his ever present journal, off the coffee table. He held it up, and for the first time in, Len finally got a good look at it. It was light brown leather, with symbols and sigils and runes burnt into the cover, the center price being a picture of an eye, the pupil red and gold, stitched into the cover with thick thread. 

“This,” Ray said, “is not my journal. When I was at college, I was studying folklore. Myths and fairytales.” He sat down on the lounge chair. Len followed suit and sat back down on the sofa. “In the depth of the library, I found this journal. I thought it the writing of an insane person until the first vampire attack.”

Len blanched. “What?”

“Vampire attack.” Ray repeated. “Those murders at Wilksdannan University twelve years ago?”

Len knew about those murders. Wilksdannan wasn’t that far from his old haunts since before… well, since before. 

Len sputtered. “Those weren’t- Raymond that was a psychopath, not a vampire!”

Ray shrugged. “She was both.” The journal was tossed to the doctor, who caught it and angrily flipped through the pages.

Len landed on the most worn page, the section on vampires (rather VAMPYRES, as it was written). In a shaky hand, all known habits and rituals were listed, as well as sign of vampirism, defenses against vampires, and, most importantly, how to kill them. 

Fire, apparently. 

There was a whole paragraph on how some vampires would keep human companions for a reliable food source, and how the saliva of a vampire was addictive, causing the “blood bag, poor fool” feel like they couldn’t leave the vampire, and would physically pain them to do so. It went on about the different affects of the addiction, including dependency, mood swings, unhealthy coping mechanisms, a heighten libido, and memory gaps. Len swallowed thickly at the last one. 

After a few tense moments, Len spoke. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Ray shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking conflicted.

“What?” Len snapped, the journal following suit.

The hunter sighed and gave Len an almost sympathetic look.

“You have scars on your neck.” Len stilled at his words. “And they don’t look like average-“

“I was in a bad relationship before moving here.” He hissed in retaliation. 

Ray looked at the good doctor, his wide, fearful eyes, his shortened breath. The hunter sighed before rolling up his sleeves.

Len’s grey eyes were glued to the silvery crescent shaped scars that littered his pale pale pale skin. All Len could do was stare. 

Raymond took a fortifying breath before speaking. “So was I.” Len continued to look between the familiar scars painted on someone else and to Raymond’s defeated expression. “Her name was Anna. And she was very… exactly what I wanted to see.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I didn’t really want to see the truth. I pushed it away so I didn’t have to think about it, and the second I did, Anna was there to distract me. It wasn’t until finals week when I barely had time to see her when I could that journal. Without Anna to tell me otherwise, it was very easy to see what she really was.” 

Ray stood up and pushed his sleeve back down, scratched his neck and sighed heavily. “When the murder started to happen, it was my fault.”

Len suddenly leaned foreword. “Raymond, those murders weren’t your fault.”

“I left Anna; I locked myself in my dorm bathroom for three days until the brunt of the withdrawal wore off. After that I didn’t even have the need to see her anymore. Anna didn’t have anyone to feed off of, so she went hunting.” Raymond looked utterly gutted by the end of his rant. “So it is my fault.” 

Guilt was evident on the hunters face. Len couldn’t begin to imagine whatever burden Ray was carrying did to him after all those years. 

“After the journal explained how get rid of a ‘pire, I just followed the instructions and… well I ended it.”

Len racked his brain for any events that occurred after the murders. “That fire in the park by the campus.”

Ray nodded sheepishly. “Yeah… ‘pires are oddly hyper flammable.”

Len stared on at the man in front of him. This tall, dorky nerd who Len had pegged for some rich weirdo who couldn’t keep a girlfriend and who’s only friend was a British drifter. Gone was that image, now replaced with a broken man; someone who had to kill the woman they once lived for the safety of others, who had stumbled into this life by chance and took it in stride. Raymond was far more observant than Leonard gave him credit for. Stronger too. Smarter in more ways that mattered. Dear god Ray was telling the truth.

Monsters were real. Vampires and werewolves and, Len shuddered to think of it, maybe even Old Re-Ivy-ble were real. 

Oh, that was a rabbit hole Len did not want to go down right now. 

Len gave Raymond an apprehensive look. “So you know about...”

Ray raised a questioning eyebrow. “Just about everything. I knew about your ex-whatever for a while, but I figured you didn’t know.”

Len wanted laugh. Didn’t know? Len never had a clue, not until Raymond opened up and showed his the scars, the journal-

The doctor groaned and began to rub away the oncoming headache. 

“Do you want a drink? That always seems to be the best remedy.” Ray offers, gesturing to the wine cabinet on the far wall.

Len shook his head. “So, campfire stories are real.” He summed up. “And a werewolf is running around in the town. So now what do we do?”

Ray shrugged. “Walter will tire himself out soon. First transformations take a lot out of a person. We just wait until morning to find him.”

Len gave the hunter a worried look. “Then what?” If ending a vampire crisis was to burn them, then he hated to think what the cure for lycanthropy would be.

“Hemlock, wolfsbane, and black rose.” Ray said factually, moving to the wine cabinet and gently removing a glass from the hook.

The doctor gave Ray a ludicrous look. “Raymond, most of that is poisonous.” Len knew they would probably have to kill Grimsby, but it would take some time for him to make peace with it.

Ray returned the strange look. “Yeah? Oh, wait, uh,” he snapped his fingers as he thought, “page forty-nine.”

Len sighed and thumbed through the pages and Ray poured himself a drink.

Lo and behold, page forty-nine had a recipe to reverse lycanthropy. It had the ingredients that Ray had listed earlier and then some… odder additions (Len did not want to know what “mummy honey” was), and the instructions to brew the, god help him, potion.

“It helps if you think of it as that weird, hippy tea that Professor Stein drinks.” Ray offered, moving back to his seat.

It did help, actually. Leonard could defiantly see Professor Stein at the local college, at the coffee shop, pulling out the journal to show the barista how to make “Black Sagacity” properly in his huffy, holier-than-thou voice. A new thought occurred to Len.

“Does Stein…”

Ray blushed. “Know? Yeah, he’s… kinda a mage…” at the sight of Len’s muted horrified look, Ray laughed a little. “Mages are just normal people who practice some magic. Non-lethal.”

“Is there a difference?” What Len meant to say was, “A normal person, as apposed to?” But Ray seemed to understand.

“Um, wizards are born, mages are self-taught, and the majority of warlocks are jerks, so.” Ray ended lamely. “I only know one nice warlock, but that’s relative because everyone else kinda hates him.”

Ah, that must be the blonde trench coat Brit who flirts with literally everything. 

Len waved his hand, as if to swipe the side co versatile out of the air. “What about the wolf that turned Grimsby?”

Ray became somewhat more serious. “The original plan was to ask them to hunt only wild life, rather than the local farmers’ stock, but they refused. So Walter and I were going to find the alpha to let him know we’d be decking the farmland borders with wolfsbane.” He shrugged nonchalantly and sipped his wine. “It was mostly a courtesy warning so he’d start planning his next hunt early.”

Len blanched. “You negotiate with them?”

Ray threw an understanding expression at Len. “You’re new to all of this. Just know that half the monsters I deal with used to be people too. I give them a chance to change, but if they are too dangerous I will do what I need to do.”

The words sunk into Len. He almost let out a mirthless laugh and the phrase “Where were you when I could have used you? Years ago in Central with Aaron?” But he swallowed down any noise self-deprivation noise before it could make it past his throat. 

“So this… tea thing will cure Grimsby?”

Ray nodded in affirmation. Well, at least Len won’t lose a patient over this.

“And then?”

“I plant the wolfsbane and wait for Woodward to go somewhere else. He won’t try anything unless it’s the full moon, but even then my house is practically magical Fort Knox.” He ended with a laugh, gesturing to the windows.

Len turn to see runes carved into the wood, tried herbs hanging from the pane. Well, Raymond at least knew what he was doing.

“You don’t have to be apart of this.” Ray said solemnly. Len turned to gave him again.

“Grimsby is my patient.”

“I meant in all of this. Everything.” Raymond looked grim. It was a bad look for him; a small part of Len never wanted to see Raymond this upset again.

Len scoffed. “Not like I can forget it.”

“You can. There a potion for just about everything.” There was a tense beat. “You wouldn’t be the first.” As if that was meant to soothe Len.

Len thought it over. Three hours ago, he was in a boring town to avoid his past and treating a patient, and having a dumb crush on the town’s eccentric weirdo; now he was in a town, resident to a mage and apparently werewolves, his abusive ex-boyfriend with a biting and blood kink was actually a vampire, and the weirdo is actually the most knowledgeable person for the mythical world. 

Half of Len wanted to forget it all, go back to pining after weird Ray who said thing in a language no one knew and went camping with books and no tent; to go back to worrying if Aaron would ever come back from the grave after that house fire Len barely escaped; go back to believing the most evil thing in this world was his father. 

But when has Len ever denied learning, finding knew ways to help others. Sure his coldness was a front to protect himself, but Len had always wanted to help those who couldn’t help themselves (to help those like him in his youth)… 

Len stood up from the chair, looking at Raymond, who less than a day ago he thought was an awkward nerd for him to ruin. The thought now almost made him laugh.

“That weird werewolf tea won’t make itself, Raymond. Sunrise is in a few hours so we better get brewing.”

Ray looked shocked. “But-“

“My job is to help other. This is just another medium for it.” Len concluded. 

Ray looked at Len with a sort of reverence, a faint smile on his lips. Looking up though dark eyelashes and wine soaked lips and a look of adoration…

Oh, Len was soooo going to ruin Raymond later. Plans are officially being laid out in his head to woo the hunter. 

But, werewolf problem first. 

“Well, Raymond?”Leonard drawled. “You know more about this than I do, so don’t make me do this alone.” He prompted. 

Ray shot up from his chair with a fervor and a smile. “Alright! Kitchen’s this way, come on.”

Well, Ivy Town’s not so boring anymore. 

—-   
Six months later  
—-

Leonard woke up to a cold bed. Not surprising since Ray has, once again, been denying himself basic necessities like sleep and food for the past week while working on his latest case. 

Len was sure that his least favorite minter would be vampires. After what Anna did to Raymond and what Aaron did to him, it was natural to assume that. This case had changed his mind though. Demi-damons defiantly are worse. And solely for the reason that they’re keeping Raymond from him.

With a labored sigh, Len sat up from bed, through on the closest set of clothes (Raymond’s dark blue sweats and an old grey wife beater) and went down stairs to make breakfast. God knows (as well as Len) that Raymond didn’t know how to cook, let alone remember to eat when needed. 

As he entered the kitchen, the scent of cigarette smoke and stale coffee made Len groan.

“Constantine.” He greeted. 

The warlock looked up and smirked from the table, lit cigarette dangle If from his lips. “Snart.” He was sitting in Len’s chair

“Why are you in my house.” Leonard demanded. 

“Raymond’s house, love.”

Len smirked victoriously. “I moved in officially two weeks ago, blondie. It’s my house now, too.”

Constantine made a sour face. “I thought Ray was kidding when he said that.” 

“Again, why are you in my house?”

This time, the blond smirked. “Your precious, darling Raymond phoned me to help him with his halfling problem.” He blew a smoke ring towards the disgruntled doctor. “Hence my presence.”

Len scowled and moved to the coffee maker. “The only reason I’m not kicking you out on your ass is because Ray need help on this thing.”

Constitute smiled sardonically. “Aw, are the nasty underworlders taking up all of Ray-Ray’s time!” He mocked.

Len sent an annoyed glare at the warlock as a trickle of coffee started its descent into the glass pot. “Yes.” He clipped.

The basement door creaked open and a half awake Dr. Palmer stumbled into the kitchen. 

“Hey Lenny.” He hummed sleepily, shuffling to the counter and pecking his boyfriend on the cheek.

Len sent a completely vindictive and smug look to Constantine, who rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. 

Ray startled. “John! Hi, didn’t see you!”

The Brit smiled lazily and tapped his ashes into the tray Ray leaves out for him. “Figured, love. Now, about this halfies?”

“Right!” Len pushed a fresh mug of coffee (two sugars already stirred in) into Ray’s hand and directed his boyfriend to sit in his chair, Ray already going on a tangent about the demi-damons.

Len walked around to Constantine and gave him a chilling look, which sent the warlock to the chair on the other side of the table. Len took a seat and smiled in victory into his coffee when he brought it to his lip.

Ray rambled, Constantine nodded every so often, and Len watched his boyfriend carefully, just to make sure he didn’t fall asleep while talking and hit his head on the table. Like last time. 

The morning light was soft in Ivy Town, the birds were singing, the wolves were at bay, and Leonard figures here, at his kitchen table, with Ray and coffee was the best place on earth.


End file.
